


Fighting for peace

by Pearlislove



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lesbians in Space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22974679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/pseuds/Pearlislove
Summary: The story of Larma D'Acy during Star Wars: The Rise of Sky Walker. Or, gratious lesbian fluff and canon compliant emotional toil.
Relationships: Larma D’Acy/Wrobie Tyce, Leia Organa & Larma D'Acy
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Noone has apparently written much about our lovley lesbian Larma D'Acy - who also was hand picked by Leia and right hand for Amilyn Holdo and well, if noone else does...then I will! enjoy this long tirad about lesbian Larma and her emotional toil in the last movie.

"Larma! You need to come!" Wrobie comes running through the djungle, loud stomping steps coming to a stop by the piece of tarp that marks the make-shift door to the the tent where Larma sleeps.

She shares the tiny cube of fabric with ten other women, Wrobie one of them, and as she groan quietly she thank the gods that no one else is there to be woken up. Exhausted, she jumps to her feet and try to ignore the sharp pain that shoot through her skull. The few hours worth of uneasy sleep between the end of her night-shift and the present time was not nearly enough to make up for the chronic sleep-deprivation that has followed her around since the beginning of the war.

She is used to a heavy head, but this is worse than normal, and she hopes it really is urgent for her to be woken up like this.

Pulling the tarp away, a pair of familiar eyes starr back at her. They are full of fear and sorrow, and just seeing that look her stomach sink down to the bottom of a black pit. This really  _ wasn't  _ good.

"What's wrong?" She whispers, worried. Gently, she lifts hand to caress her wife's cheek and try to relieve her of that fearful expression. "What's happening honeybee?"

"It's General Organa. She's...sick, or something" Wrobie takes a deep breath and for a moment, it almost seems as though she'll cry. "You need help her, please." 

"What?" Larma knows she shouldn't be surprised. It had escaped noone that the general's health was in decline - especially since her near-death and the loss of Admiral Holdo. Still, the news that the decline had suddenly accelerated cut deep into Larma's heart, and it take precious seconds before she can answer. "How bad is it?" She question.

"She's says she's fine, but she looks terrible ill. People are worried" Wrobie bit her lip. "The chief mechanic, Rose, told me to go get you. She want you to take the general back to her tent and look after her."

Larma nodded. She understood what they wanted her to do, but... "Why me? Anyone can do that."

"Because she'll listen to you" Wrobie says, and give her a kiss. Her lips are soft against Larma's and she smiled, comforted. "Everyone listens to you,  _ commander D'Acy _ " Wrobie pat her on the arm, and then she turns to leave. The message is delivered, and she has work to get back to.

* * *

"General?"

Wrobie had been right when she said she believed Leia might be sick. She looked nauseous and pale, standing leaned against a table with one shaking hand on the table and the other one around her midsection. 

"Leia?" Gently, carefully, Larma put a hand on the older woman's shoulder to gain her attention. 

After way too long, Leia's head loll to the side, acknowledging Larma's presence in the smallest of ways. Her eyes are empty and glazed over, clearly showing that though she react, she is not quite there. "Amilyn..." She whispers, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth at the friend she think she sees.

"No, Larma. D'Acy, from Warlentta?" Larma correct her gently, knowing her mind is not present in the here and now, and take her arm. "Come on, we should get you to bed. You need to sleep." 

Hearing this, Leia blink, looking as though she is facing a bright light. "Oh, Larma. I'm sorry" Thankfully, her eyes seem to come into focus at last, and she mumbles an apolegy as she push away from the table and go to stand on her own.

The moment she stand up without support, Leia's legs buckle, and in a short moment of almost panic she finds herself frantically looking for the table she had been leaning against again.

"Don't worry, I'm here. I got you." Larma hurries forward to catch Leia, supporting her as she starts to lead them towards the tents. "Just let me help you back."

"Thank you" Leia smiles a little, but it is more hollow than when she thought Larma was Amilyn.

Larma doesn't blame her. On her best days, she could never hope to be even a fraction of what Admiral Holdo had been. Even in death, Larma considered Holdo a step above her own self, and she doubted that would ever change.

"Do you need any help?" Suddenly, Wrobie is back, walking along with Larma and Leia, worry written across her face as they make their way across the camp. "Just tell me if you need anything"

Larma can feel Leia tensing in her arms, trying to straighten up and be more independent than she really has means for, and she knows the general doesn't trust Wrobie quite as much as she trusts her. In all likelyhood, Leia would probably have told the pilot to go, if it wasn’t that Wrobie was her wife.

"Just walk with us, please. On the other side of her" Larma spoke quietly, feeling people starring even more at the second person coming to their aid. If they had not been worried before, they were sure to be now. "Make it look natural" She added, though she is not sure herself what she means by that or if it will in any way help.

Thankfully, Wrobie seem to understand what her wife wants better than she understand herself, and she take a position on the other side that shields Leia from view of the soldiers they pass by, chattering about nothing much at all to mask the problem and allowing Larma to focus more attention and energy on her patient.

Leia's eyes has drifted off again and every few yards her head dip, her hole body slacking for a few terrifying seconds before recovering, her feet once more taking their own weight. It's alarming, telling Larma that she would have collapsed long ago if not for the support she was receiving, and she wished she could hurry up their excruciatingly slow walk back to the tent.

As they are finally forced to veer off the clearly trampled down path to walk the last few steps to the tent, things go from bad to worse. Leia dipps again and this time it take her longer to awake and regain her footing. She’s still not out for long, but those extra few moments is enough to offset Larma herself as she sturggle with the sudden weight. Her feet cross over each other in the uneven terrain and she trip, lurching forward to the ground with Leia following suit to crash down on top of her.

"Larma!" At the last possible second, Wrobisweep in, catching the general in her arms before her wife is crushed underneath her. "Are you okay?" She asks, her hands gripping tightly to Leia's shoulders as she watch Larma clamber back to her feet and brush off the dirt.

"I'm fine. I didn't hurt myself" Larma assure her partner quickly, but can't help but feel slightly shaken. Leia Organa had nearly collapsed straight on top of her, and in worst case she might never have gotten up. "But the general is not. She's getting worse." She adds, concerned as she sees Leia struggle to stay upright with the less optimal support from Wrobie.

Wrobie swallows hard and nodd, adjusting her grip on the general to how Larma had been holding her. "I can see her tent from here. Fetch a glass of water and something to eat, and I'll put her to bed in the meantime." She offered. Though she didn't feel very comfortable taking care of her leader like this, she could see Larma needed a few moment more to gather herself and wanted to give it to her.

Larma nodded. "I'll be back soon" She promised, turning around from where they came to go off and get the items Wrobie suggested.

* * *

"Luke…" Leia's voice is quite and threadbare, whispering to her helper as she watches the arm wrapped tightly around her midsection, supporting her as she try to walk the last few steps to her tent.

"Wrobie Tyce" Wrobie corrects automatically, only afterwards registering what exactly the general had called her. It is confusing, the reasons for her being mixed up with the jedi seemingly non-existent, until she look down upon herself and realize she is still wearing her orange flight suit.

She knew that Luke Skywalker had been a pilot too, way back in the first war. An orange flight suit would've been a familiar piece of clothing for him, and so also for Leia, giving her something she recognized in the midst of her confusion. 

“Mm” Leia doesn't seem to notice the correction, which is worrying, but Wrobie doesn't put much more thought into it as they finally arrive at her tent, and she is given the chance to set her down.

"You okay sitting on your own?" Wrobie ask, but doesn't expect an answer. If she could not tell Wrobie and her brother apart, she was unlikely to be able to determine her own balance.

"I am good, thanks, Larma…" To Wrobie's great surprise, Leia does manage a coherent answer, her eyes coming into focus once more as she look up at her carer. "Oh, not Larma...I could've swore Commander D'Acy was here a moment ago" She looks around her, confused. 

"She was" Wrobie confirmed. "She went back for some food and water. If you can manage on your own here, I'll go look for her." She offered gently, sensing that Larma’s ‘disappearance’ has caused a mild amount of panic with their ill leader.

Leia nodded, grateful. "If you could that would be wonderful dear" She says, remembering her mission and knowing that what she's about to do, she can not do before the innocent eyes of Commander D'Acy's unsuspecting wife. Dead or not, Larma would forever blame her for any trauma inflicted upon her partner, and the last thing Leia wanted was to hurt anyone anymore.

“Alright, then I will” Wrobie agrees. There is a clear undertone of 'please give me some privacy', and she hurries to take the hint and leave.

Walking away, she feels comforted and happy to be able to tell Larma that the generall was starting to recover, hopefully getting better permanently.

That things might fix themselves, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

"She asked for you. Noticed you left and wanted you to come" Wrobie tells her wife the happy news as she lead her back to the general's tent. "I really she thinks she's going to get better!" She exclaim optimistically. 

Larma smile. "That's great! Thank you" She give her wife a kiss, letting her hold up the tarp for her as she head on into the tent alone.

She has a plate of porridge and a mug of water in her hands, hoping to be able to help Leia see to the bodily needs which she knew her superior often struggled to meet on her own accord. 

It is good food, and considering how little they had, she would never intentionally waste it, but as she comes inside the tent it all goes crashing to the ground. 

As the porridge spread out by her feet, a scream rise in her throat, hopeful optimism about Leia's condition turning to all-consuming terror at she sees the dead body resting on the makeshift bed. 

The skin is white and pale, a hand hanging limply off the side of the wood structure that has turned into her last resting place. She is absolutely still, and absolutely dead.

Had it been any other point in her life, Larma might not have been able to tell. Had she still been on Warlentta, she might not have known what a dead body looked like. But she has been in the resistance a long time and done her fair share of rounds in the medical bay, watching over the injured and dying. 

She had seen soules slipping away, leaving only an empty vessel of flesh and blood behind, and as such she knew. There was no that all life had left the body on the bed, and the pure agony of that realization made her scream. She roar, tears on her face and her knees folding under her as she curled up in the porridge soaked mud.

She had been in the resistance a long time, but she had never thought she'd have to face  _ this _ . 

Once she start screaming Larma can't stop. Her throat is rubbed raw and aching, her lungs are begging for air, but she  _ cannot  _ stop. Even as she close her eyes she sees the dead body, and it drives her to the brink of insanity, if not further

She doesn’t stop. Not until two strong hand grab onto her shoulders, and that point she is not just falling quiet, she is passing out. Like a blown out candle, her consciousness plummets down into darkness.

* * *

She opens her eyes without knowing when she closed them, and immediatly recognizes the orange pilot suit her cheek is resting against. The fabric is stiff and and rough against her cheek, but she press her face against it, comforted by the quiet heartbeat she can hear beating underneath it.

"Wrobie…" Her voice is threadbare and raw, but she force herself to say her name, alerting her partner that she is in fact awake again.

"You're awake!" Those big, brown eyes stare down on her, the arms that carry her limp body repositioning their grip so she is in a little more of a sitting position, bringing their faces closer. "You scared me to death! You screamed  _ so loudly _ , and then when I got to you you passed out and...I was so frightened!"

"I really did...didn't I…snapped completely" She mumbles quietly, wrapping her arms around Wrobie's neck to help support her own weight when she wasn't put down to walk on her own two feet. Then, she sighed, putting her head in the crook of her wife's neck and cuddling her. “I can’t believe Leia is actually gone” Tears rise in her eyes, and she has no energy to fight them as they start rolling down her cheeks. “What will we do without her?”

"We'll keep fighting. Surviving. Is there anything else we can do?" Wrobie whispered, crawling down into bed with Larma as she put her down in their tent. "Now, you should get some sleep. You haven't gotten much and it probably contributed to your breakdown"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…” She begin to apolegise, but is stopped by soft lips against her own. "Mmhmhm"

"No" Wrobie says simply, her lips moving down from her face to her neck. "You just saw a dead body. You saw your _friend_ **die**. It would push anyone over the edge." 

"Perhaps you are right" Larma smile weakly, kissing her Wrobie’s head. "Luckily, I have the best wife in the hole Galaxy."


	3. Chapter 3

Larma D'Acy is a space commander in the resistance. She was hand-picked by General Leia Organa herself, and served for the longest time as the right-hand woman of Admiral Amilyn Holdo. She had defeated so many threats and survived so many seemingly impossible battles, that nothing should shock her any more.

Yet, in the face of something as plain and common as a  _ natural death _ , she doesn't know what to do. 

They’re burrying Leia when the sun rise again, and while mostly everyone else at the camp has taken turns throughout the day to go and say their final farewells, Larma had found herself unable to. 

Wrobie, being sympathetic of her position, had offered for them to go together, but Larma refused. 

Finding Leia's dead body lying in her tent had shaken her deep down to her core, the trauma clinging to her like an invisible layer of dirt on her skin. It squeezed her tighter every second, it seemed, and she knew if she went back to see the body it would kill her. 

She hasn't slept more than mere minutes in the almost three days that had elapsed since the tragedy struck, and she is too tired and suffering to test her own limits any further.

Instead, she finds herself standing far out in the unknown jungle, sobbing into her hands and hoping no one can hear her. Hoping that maybe, she had run away so far no one would see her and she would not have to embarrass herself any more. 

The hot water droplets flowing from her eyes and the fact that all she could not think of anything but Wrobie's arms was pathetic. She had always been stronger than that, drawing on the inner strength and conviction which had driven her to join the resistance from the beginning.

But now, that source was depleted. There was no strength left and bo amount of conviction could make her push ahead as though it was nothing special. At last, the war had broken her down, and it was not a pretty sight.

She's almost done crying, almost done emptying out all the grief she held in her heart, when she hears the sound of engine blowing through the leaves.

When she realize, that a ship is about to land.

Back turned to the noise, she hesitate to turn around. She's far off camp and knows, that if whoever has landed is hostile, this might very well be the end.

The end of her life.

She turns around before she has time to register what she's doing, and instead of a thousand enemy ships, all she sees is the millenium falcon. Han Solo's pride and joy, standing securely on the forest floor in all it's run-down glory.

It's the good guys. It's the saviours and the hope, everything that they depended upon to maybe, finally, win this war.

"Poe!" She runs up to them as they are unloading, no longer afraid when she knows that it's resistance fighters. Seeing it has oddly give her some energy back, if only just a little. "I need to…" She knows needs to tell them what has happened. Need to deliver the blow, before they come into the camp and see the wake. 

Poe doesn't listen to her, gently shoving her to the side as he swing his bag over his shoulder. "We don't have time, we need to talk to the general!" He orders, eyes starring ahead and not even  _ seeing _ her. He got a plan in his mind and it's all that matters.

His order is like a kick to the head, and Larma doubt it could've hurt more if he'd been trying. His words bring her back to a night-black reality that she’s spent the last week trying not to drown in. "You...you can't!" She exclaim, struggling to make herself coherent as Poe walked on by.

"The general...she is gone" 


End file.
